


Honesty

by acercrea



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bayern München, Borussia Dortmund, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acercrea/pseuds/acercrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario is mad because Marco was mean to Lewy. How does he handle it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honesty

Honesty

A/N: This is my first Götzeus, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Mario Götze or Marco Reus. This is just a story.

“Why are you being so mean to Lewy?” Mario asked me as we got pizza after the match.

“I’m not being mean to Robert,” I countered, hoping he would drop it, but knowing Mario better than that.

“But you are. He tried to say hi to you after the match and you completely blew him off. The whole team has been angry with me for a year, but not you. I told Lewy that you would be cool about it. You would be a good sport and shake his hand and not give him a hard time over doing something that he felt was the right thing. That he still feels is the right thing. You know how much it means to him to be playing for his dad’s favorite team, wearing his dad’s favorite player’s number. Why couldn’t you just give him a hug?” Mario asked me.

“Because it is different,” I replied.

“How? How is Robert leaving Dortmund any different than me leaving? We both left, but you and I are still fine, while you treat Lewy like he is a stranger. I am just trying to understand,” Mario pleaded.

“Well for starters, you and I are still teammates, Mario. We don’t live in the same town anymore, and we wear different club jerseys, but we still play for the same team at least once a month, and that means something. You and I are still part of something together. I know that you think everything is easy and happy, but that is just not the way things work,” I replied.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mario asked.

“It means you need everything to work out. Well sometimes it just doesn’t. Sitting around on vacation while you and the rest of the team won the World Cup was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. And when you held up my jersey it made me feel like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, but at the same time it reminded me that I was supposed to be there, with my team and I wasn’t. I decided in that moment that I was going to be there for my team no matter what from now on,” I told him.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Marco,” Mario said with a warning in his tone.

“It is different because Robert was never my best friend. You have been on holiday with me; for god’s sake, my mother did Christmas twice last year because you couldn’t be there on Christmas Day. That means something, Mario. I will never have that bond with Robert the way I have it with you. It will get better, but we are still figuring out what it means to have one of our best scorers playing for biggest rival. I like Robert, but I will always be disappointed when we lose. I am a leader on my team, Mario; I have to set an example. I would like it to be different, but it just isn’t. I’m sorry this is upsetting you, but that is the way it is. You are acting as though the whole team snubbed Robert. He got a warm welcome from some of the guys, and Erik even let Robert comfort him. Isn’t that enough?” I asked Mario.

“No, I don’t think it is. I’m not hungry anymore Marco, but it was good to see you,” Mario replied, getting up.

“Mario,” I started but couldn’t finish when I saw a hard look that was so unfamiliar in Mario’s take hold.

“I will see you in a couple of weeks for the National Team match, we can get pizza then,” he continued, giving me a brief hug and leaving me in the pizza place.

I was suddenly overcome with the feeling that I was deflating, like a balloon that had a small hole in it. I didn’t know what I was going to say to him, but I knew I had to go after Mario.

I ran outside and saw him walking quickly through a park on the other side of the street. I ran after him and when I was closer to him I called out, “Hey, Mario, wait up.”

He stopped but did not turn around. His voice was barely a whisper when he asked me, “What?”

It sounded like he was trying to hide the fact that he was crying, so I lay my hand on his shoulder and said softly, “Please look at me Mario.”

“Why? So you can keep telling me how silly and emotional I am?” he asked.

“No, so I can apologize,” I responded. When he turned around I wiped the tears from his face gently before continuing. “I am sorry I hurt your feelings. I love that you are the most unapologetically optimistic person I have ever met. You see the best in any situation and make everyone around you see it too. You are the best friend I have ever had and the year and a half you have been at Bayern has been really hard for me because I relied on you so heavily at Dortmund. You were always there for me, on the field and off, and no one could ever take your place. I couldn’t be mad at you for leaving because I knew it was what you wanted, so it was what I wanted for you. But when Robert left it felt the same, and him I could be mad at. I wanted you to stay for selfish reasons, and that was wrong, but since I can’t be mad at you, will you at least let me be mad at Robert?” I begged.

“What are you saying, Marco, why can’t you be mad at me?” he asked.

“Because you are my best friend,” I replied.

“Marco, stop telling me half-truths, I need you to look me in the eye and tell me why you can’t be mad at me or I am going to start walking again and things between us will never be the same again,” Mario threatened.

“You don’t know what you are asking, Mario. The truth will change everything,” I sighed, looking down at the ground.

“Marco,” he placed his hand on my cheek as he spoke my name in an almost reverent tone, “I think I do know what I am asking, and I want you to be honest with me because I am telling you that what you have to say isn’t going to change how I feel about you.”

I looked up, not daring to believe what I was hearing. “Mario?” I asked, immediately starting to drown in his deep brown eyes. “I am afraid to tell you the truth,” I confessed, moving slowly closer to him. “I have never been good at telling people how I feel. I get nervous, or I say the wrong thing, and I muck things all up. But I think that I can show you how I feel,” I replied. I hesitated only long enough to bring one of my hands up to rest on the hand he had still resting on my cheek, then placing my other hand on the back of his head, I pulled him closer and crushed my lips to his.

For several moments we hungrily tasted each other, as if we were both still concerned that this would be our only opportunity to enjoy what we have both secretly wanted for so long. Once it became apparent that neither of us was going to push the other away we slowed down and savored everything about the moment. They perfect way our lips fit together, the gentle way our tongues brushed, the amazing way he groaned when I ran my fingers through his hair and lightly tugged, the similar moan he elicited from me when he ran his fingers under my shirt and over my abs. Encouraged by what was happening I kissed a slow trail to his neck as I told him, “Mario Götze, I have been in love with you for almost 2 years.” He jumped slightly when on the last word when I nipped his neck with my teeth, before groaning as I started sucking on the spot, trying to find that agonizingly perfect balance between pleasure and pain that I knew he liked.

“Marco Reus, I have loved you as long as I have known you,” he replied as he tangled his hands in my hair and pulled my face back to his.

I could sense that this was rapidly approaching the point of no return and reluctantly rested my forehead on his as I tried to catch my breath. He started to protest, but I cut him off by saying, “I want to give you so much better than a frantic first time in the middle of a park. We have all the time in the world, Mario,” I reminded him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I responded as our hands continued to lazily explore.

He was running his hands through my hair as I gently traced the planes of his face when he softly whispered, “Thank you for being honest with me, Marco.”

“Thank you for pushing me, Mario," I replied. Suddenly I chuckled. "I must really love you,” I trailed off.

“Why?” he asked.

“No one gets to touch my hair,” I joked. The sound of his laughter echoing through the park is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard.

A/N: Let me know what you think, and send me a request if you want a fic.


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